


Less Than Zero

by Tyranno



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Daemon Separation, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: In 1988, following his mother's death, a young Peter Quill is abducted from Earth by the Ravagers, a group of space pirates led by Yondu Udonta.They leave his Daemon behind by mistake.





	Less Than Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this fic 40% because of the title I came up for it, but when I finished the title didn't really fit anymore but you know what? it doesn't matter. (the only 60% was how fun this fic was to write. Really enjoyed myself.)
> 
> Also!! This is my 50th fic *pulls party poppers*

The last kid Yondu ever takes is wild. 

The other kids—they were all a handful. Some were scared and tearful, some were violent, a lot were loud and disobedient. But Peter was something else. 

The extraction started off fine, he was being beamed up fine, chased by some earth bird that kept changing into smaller, faster shapes. But when he broke the cloud bank and the animal was whipped away by the wind—it was like something came over the child. Like he was possessed. 

Peter was in fits, completely inconsolable. He wouldn’t stop screaming and hyper ventillating, having seizure after seizure, kicking and biting wildly. His screams where so loud and constant that it kept them all up at night. The only thing Yondu could liken it to was someone suffocating. 

It was in those nights, unable to escape the sounds of a child in pain, that the crew came to a unanimous, unspoken decision. 

In the second week on the ship, Peter stopped crying, having worn himself out. The crew hadn’t been able to get him to eat anything over the week before, but he was still so unresponsive they nearly had to chew the food for him. 

Over the next few months Peter got better in bouts. At moments he was dull-eyed and slow, next he was quick witted and sly. He was such a pain to look after at first, but the Ravagers found it hard to get angry at someone who was so pathetic-looking. 

Peter fit so well into the Ravagers ranks that some people start to forget the rocky start. Yondu sure as hell didn’t, and neither did Peter, by the look in his eye. 

 

*

 

He lost her so long ago Peter couldn’t really remember what having a daemon felt like. He liked to think he can remember Earth crystal-clear, but things he liked to reminisce about Earth were quickly over shadowed by stuff he needed to know to survive—various laws and the loopholes in them, which planets have the best booze, which law enforcement squads have the fastest ships, when it’s safe to raid the ship’s parlor—that he ended up spending whole afternoons trying to remember his childhood friend’s names and favourite TV shows. The pain in his chest got worse when he thought about his daemon or his mother, so he didn’t, hoping the pain will go away entirely. It never did. 

 

*

 

The weirdest thing about Peter, Rocket finds, was his reaction to him hearing Rocket speak. 

On the whole, when Rocket opened his mouth around someone for the first time he gets a mix of reactions: shock, disgust, anger, sneering. But the look on Peter’s face when he heard Rocket’s voice was first surprise, then childlike wonder. 

The human wouldn’t stop looking at him and glancing at Groot. He was so preoccupied that it takes him a few moments to notice the guard with his walkman and go after him. Not that it did him any good. 

Rocket was tugging his shirt on, wincing at the orange disinfectant in his scars, when the staring starts to irritate him. “What?” Rocket snapped. 

Peter’s head jerked up, and he looked sheepish. “Are you and Groot, you know,” He fumbles with his words and gestures, “’One’?” 

“One what?” Rocket snapped. 

“You know,” Peter interlaced his fingers meaningfully, “Part of each other. Two as one? Together?” 

Rocket recoils, “No!” 

Peter looks crestfallen. “Oh.” 

Rocket shakes his head, turning away, “Freak.” He muttered. 

 

*

 

The cat appeared on Jack Riley Quill’s windowsill the day after Peter disappeared. It was ordinary-looking, a smallish American Shorthair with a swirled orange coat and pointy ears, but Jack knew her for what she was. Even though she’d been a bird the last time he’d seen her, Jack knew. He knew, and he felt a deep well of sadness so great it nearly overwhelmed him, so great that when he first laid eyes on her, he couldn’t work up the nerve to approach the window for fifteen full minutes. 

He opened the window to let her in and she padded in, looking so wretched and upset it broke his heart. The Daemon’s name was Easter, and was unmistakably Peter’s. 

Easter was sluggish and tired, spending days asleep on the mantle place, or at the foot of Jack’s bed. She inspired such sadness that Ripley, Jack’s daemon, who was far from the most friendly animal, spent a lot of time licking Easter’s ears. It didn’t help. 

Easter was always silent, and Jack assumed she couldn’t talk any more until one December night they were curled up under a blanket, watching Christmas specials, when Easter pushed her nose into the crook of Jack’s neck and groaned. “I miss him,” she said, voice heavy. Ripley stopped wagging her tail and butted the cat with her nose. Easter pushed her away, and sighed. “God, I miss him so bad.” 

“Me too, kitty,” Jack said, scratching her under her chin. “Me too.” 

 

*

 

“I assume you actually got the products my benefactor is looking for this time?” a smarmy voice rolled through the fancy ship’s speakers. 

“That was one time,” Rocket rolled his eyes, putting Groot’s pot down in the grass. “And we did get them! We just… lost them again.” 

“They’re here,” Gamora said, holding up the suitcase to the door’s camera. 

“Good,” The voice said and clicked off. The ship’s door rolled up and a fine-looking woman stepped onto the grass. A smart black monkey perched on her shoulder, braiding her dark hair, “Let me see the goods and I’ll have the money wired to you and you can be on your way.” 

Gamora passed her the suitcase and the monkey tied up the braid with a sigh. “I’m glad they got it together this time,” The monkey said from behind her hair. 

“A Terran?” Peter yelped. 

Gamora was about to kick him for assuming people’s species again, when the woman’s head jerked up and she smiled stiffly. 

“Yes?” The woman said, and then looked confused, searching around Peter for something, “Are you…?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said, a little sheepish. 

The woman’s face softened. It lost its haughtiness and she looked suddenly sad. 

Gamora looked between the woman and Peter, wondering what had passed between them, frustratingly unsaid. 

The woman opened the suitcase and looked over the contents carefully, moving the glass batteries around, holding them up to the light. “It’s all present and correct,” she said, and straightened up, holding the suitcase on her hip. “I’ll wire you the money."

“Thank you,” Rocket said, a little awkwardly. 

“You know what?” The woman said, “Let’s have something to eat. You’ve all travelled a long way.” 

“Actually—” Gamora started. 

“Yeah, let’s,” Peter said, following the woman into her ship.

“Peter’s right,” Rocket said, scooping up Groot and jumping after him. Gamora shot him a look. “It’s free food, Gamora. Who’s saying no?”

The ship was strange looking, with dark, sleek walls and tall ceilings. The walls were covered with photo-frames, trophies, and lush red tapestries. A few beautiful pieces of jewellery glittered behind thick glass. 

“It’s rare to see a Terran this far from the milky way,” She said, “Oh actually,” The woman tugged the translator out of her ear. “Let’s talk like this.” 

Peter tugged his out. 

“你好吗?” She asked. 

Peter put it back in, “Could you repeat that?” 

The woman laughed sheepishly, and put her translator back in. “Sorry. I’m Wu Jiao, by the way.” 

“Peter Quill,” Peter said. “How come you’re in space?” 

“My parents built a space ship together on their anniversary,” Wu Jiao said, “They wanted to live on the moon, but rather overshot themselves and ended up flying into a passing Nova Core ship. The impact killed my dad but my mum managed to give birth to me fine in their cargo port.” 

“Sounds exciting,” Peter said.

“What about you?” Jiao asked. 

“Obducted by aliens,” Peter admitted. 

Jiao smiled, and reached the end of the ship’s dark corridor. She pointed down one of the branch corridors. “There’s booze and food enough for a dozen of you in the parlor,” She said. “I just had it restocked.”

Rocket sighed happily and bounced down the corridor. Drax was halfway through following him when he turned back to Peter. “Are you not coming with us?” He asked. 

Peter shrugged. “I was going to talk with Wu about Earth and stuff,” He said. 

Gamora glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but said nothing, following the others. 

 

*

 

“This is starting to get old,” Gamora said to herself the third time Rocket started squabbling with Drax over some strange piece of Terran food. This time it was some sort of meatball coated in a sticky brown sauce that tasted like tree sap to her. 

“I am Groot,” Groot emphasised, rubbing his large eyes. 

“Let’s go find Quill,” Gamora suggested, picking up Groot’s pot and resting it on her hip. 

“I am Groot,” Groot said. 

Gamora paced through the quiet, dark hallways, checking through the doors. She saw several expensive looking meeting rooms, an unused games room, a few spare bedrooms, but no humans. She was about to give up when she heard familiar voices floating from a small dining room. 

“I am—?” Groot started, but Gamora hushed him. She crept towards the room. 

“—long has it been?” Jiao was saying, her voice hushed.

Peter made a strange noise, a kind of strangled grunt, followed by a deep sigh. Gamora realised with a jolt he was probably crying. 

“Does it still hurt?” A male voice—the monkey, asked. His tone was gentle, close to a whisper. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, breathlessly. He sniffed hard, “Yeah, it still hurts.” 

Gamora crept away. 

“I am Groot?” Groot asked quietly. 

“Let’s just get the others,” Gamora whispered. 

 

*

 

Peter returns to the ship drunk and sad. When he stumbles into the Milano’s cockpit, the atmosphere grows cold and quiet. He falls against the wall and slumps to the floor. That’s when the tears start falling. 

“Quill?” Rocket jumps down from the chair, padding over. “What’s wrong?” 

Peter presses his hands into his face, shaking. He groaned. 

“What happened?” Rocket asked pawing at Peter’s hands over his face. 

Peter sniffled loudly and dropped the hands from his face, pushing Rocket away, “It’s nothing.” 

“Did that Wu lady do something?” Rocket snapped, “I knew she looked shady—”

“No,” Peter said, rubbing at his face. “It happened earlier—but it’s happened now. It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago...” More tears brimmed and he scrubbed them away, “But, God… I was just a kid...”

“Something happened with the Ravagers?” Gamora asked, sitting next to him. 

“I miss her so badly...” Peter said, screwing his eyes shut. “It’s—I can’t get away from it… it’s always there, you know...” 

“What happened?” Gamora asked, taking one of his hands and pressing it between hers. 

Peter opened his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, and he stopped shaking. He sniffed. “Humans are…” He started and trailed off, “We’re not… like over species. We wear our souls on the outside.” He took another deep breath. “It’s called a Daemon… and mine is back on earth.” 

“Oh,” Rocket said. 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, tiredly. 

“To be separated from your own soul,” Drax said, deeply. “How is that even possible?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter said, “I should be dead, if I’m honest. Or worse.” 

“We need to go back to earth,” Gamora said, firmly. She gripped his hand and pulled him to his feet. 

“That’s impossible,” Peter said, rubbing his tired eyes. “There’s a huge Asgardian no-fly zone around Earth. It’s the most protected area in the galaxy. We’d have to work a million years to buy a cloaking device strong enough.” 

“Not… necessarily,” Rocket said, pulling a beautiful necklace from his back pocket. He flipped open the largest diamond on it and held up a USB-sized metal rectangle. 

“What is that?” Drax asked. 

“What do you think?” Rocket said, proudly, “It’s a cloaking device strong enough to get us through the most protected area of the galaxy.” 

“For once your incessant thievery saved our asses rather than putting us in mortal danger,” Peter said. 

“That’s a strange way of saying thank you,” Rocket grumbled. 

 

*

 

On a bright Thursday morning Easter let out a shout so loud it make Jack drop all of the eggs he’d been cracking straight into the cake mix, shell and all. 

“Open the door!” Easter shouted, “Open the door!” 

The cat Daemon had so much energy it looked like a different animal. She leapt onto the table and jumped about, “Open the door—or the window, I don’t care! I need to go!” 

“Ok, ok,” Jack fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door. 

The moment the door was open the cat shot out, cutting through the corn like a bullet. Jack frowned after her—and then he noticed the shadow. It was huge, spreading over the bright corn and blotting out the sun. He looked up in the sky. His heart lifted and chased after the Daemon. 

Before the ship even landed the door burst open and a man jumped out, met with Easter leaping on him. The man fell back, laughing, and Easter laughed too, pressing her nose into every inch of the man’s skin, like she couldn’t get close enough. Peter—must be—pressed kisses into her firey fur, rubbing her ears. Ripley yapped around Peter’s ankles, tail wagging wildly. 

The rest of the ships crew walked out, smiling at Peter. They were an odd bunch—a green lass, a big, grey fellow, a raccoon that walked on two legs holding a potted plant. They barely spared Jack a glance. 

“Thank you,” Peter said, and the raccoon nodded. Easter kept close to him, cradled against his neck. Her purring was loud like the rumbling of an engine. “Thank you so much.” His eyes found Jack, and he startled. “Grandad?” 

“Peter,” Jack said, and engulfed him in a hug. “You’ve gotten big.” 

Peter laughed, tears brimming in his eyes. He hugged Jack tightly, keeping an arm around Easter. “Thank you” He said. 

“Yeah, well,” Jack said, “I knew you were coming back.” 

Ripley pointed her nose at the space ship’s crew. “Thanks for looking after Peter,” She said. “We appreciate it.” 

“Oh, um,” Gamora said, “Thank you.” 

“It’s our pleasure,” Rocket said, with an expression of wonder. 

Jack let go of his grandson reluctantly, keeping hold of his shoulders. He glanced between Peter and his crew, smiling warmly. “Do you guys want to come in?” He asked, “I’ve got some beer in the fridge.” 

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [welcome to the human race](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588250) by [smilebackwards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilebackwards/pseuds/smilebackwards)




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